If You Show the Fucking Gun, It Damn Well Has To Go Off

The strong wind is gathering the storm-clouds together above the gray plain of the ocean so wide.The storm-finch, the bird that resembles dark lightning, between clouds and ocean, soaring.Skimming the waves with his wings, shooting up, arrow-like, into the dark clouds on high, the storm-finch is clamoring loudly, shrilly; the clouds can hear the bird's fearless cry. In that cry is the yearning, the thirst for the tempest, and anger's hot might in its wild notes is heard; the keen fire of passion, the faith in sure triumph
—All these the clouds hear in the voice of the bird.The seagulls lament with a storm impending; they flitter o'er the waves with a piercing wail; they are ready to hide in the depths of the ocean as their dread of this tempest threatens from on high.The cargeese and grebes, too, shriek hoarsely in terror; they mourn and complain when the tempest is near; they know not the joy of life-and-death struggle; the crash of the thunderbolt fills them with fear.
The fat, foolish penguin hides, timid and craven, in nooks of the cliffs, where it finds a safe home; alone, the proud storm-finch soars blindly fearless above the rough ocean, all hoary with foam.Still nearer and darker the storm-clouds lower themselves onto the broad ocean; the waves as they beat sing and dance as they lift themselves upward, as if they were longing the thunder to meet.The thunder is crashing, billows are roaring; the depths are foaming with rage. They shriek and they gasp as they strive with the gale.Now the storm-wind clasps fiercely the bevy of waves in his powerful grasp; it hurls them, with all his mad strength, in grim fury, against the precipitous cliffs of the rock.
The emerald masses of water are shattered to spray a fine mist by the force of the shock.
The storm-finch, the bird that resembles dark lightning, soaring with cries 'mid the tempest's fierce breath; like an arrow he pierces the clouds; with his pinions dashing the foam from the billows beneath.He darts like a haughty black demon of tempest, in wild exultation that knows no alloy.
'Twixt the sea and the sky he vacillates laughing and sobbing. He laughs to the clouds defiantly his sobbing is for valiant joy!In the wrath of the thunder, the keen, quick-eared demon has long since detected a note of fatigue. He is firm in his faith that the clouds will nary cover a bright sun for aye, though they stretch league on league.The storm-wind is howling, the thunder is roaring; with flame blue and lambent the cloud-masses glow o'er the fathomless ocean; it catches the lightnings, and quenches them deep in its whirlpool below.Like serpents of fire in the dark ocean writhing, the lightnings reflected quiver and shake, as into the blackness they vanish forever.
The tempest! Now quickly the tempest will break!The storm-finch soars fearless and proud 'mid the lightnings, above the wild waves that the roaring winds fret; and what is the prophet of victory saying?
"Oh, let the storm burst! Fiercer yet—fiercer yet!"

I Watched the Clucking on the News and Went Looking For My Hatchet

I was sayin let me out of here before I was even born-
It's such a gamble when you get a face
It's fascinating to observe what the mirror does, ...but when I dine it's for the wall that I set a place.
I belong to the blank generation and I can take it or leave it each time.
Triangles were falling at the window as the doctor cursed,
...he was a cartoon long forsaken by the public eye.
The nurse adjusted her garters as I breathed my first breath,
...the doctor grabbed my throat and yelled, "God's consolation prize!"
To hold the TV to my lips, the air so packed with cash then carry it up flights of stairs and drop it in the vacant lot,
I lose my train of thought, fall into your arms' tracks, and watch beneath the eyelids every passing dot.
I belong to the blank generation and I can take it or leave it each time.

The Transfiguration of the Common Man/Woman

Is it we who are active subjugates of our societies, or is a society's purpose to serve toward our benefit? This question begins where all similar questions begin; in the "state of nature". But has that state ever been agreed upon. The creation of this theoretical past is always forged into the shape of the desired gains of the future.
This is where the notion of the power to suspend the societal agreements concerning it structure and boundary should be confronted -if not all out demolished. While this discussion has been taken up at great length elsewhere, it is not too simplistic to state: the moment that the societal pact is breached, is the concurrent moment to which all obligation to that societal pact is superseded by natural sovereignty. Here, as in all contractual legal obligations, both parties are only culpable in that both parties or diligent in their portion of the contract.
Extra-legal action does not inherently prove validity of power; it negates it.

The Transfiguration of the Common Idea

..In fact history does not belong to us; we belong to it.
Long before we understand ourselves through the process of self-examination,
we understand ourselves in a self-evident way in the form of the immediate:
the family, society, culture, and state in which we exist.

The self awareness of an the individual is only flickering in the closed circuit of historical life.
This is why predjudices (pre-judgments) of the individual, far more than their experiential judgements, constitutes the historical reality of their being.